by B. J. Harvey
I go to delete the text but instead push send. “Fucking motherfucker!” I mutter, wishing there was a recall text button on my phone. Why hasn’t someone invented that shit already?
A few minutes later, my phone starts ringing and Mia’s name flashes up on screen.
“Look, I didn’t meant to send that. I—”
Gales of laughter reverberate in my ear. “That was the best dumb pick-up line I’ve ever heard. Give me another!” she says eagerly.
“Ah . . . is this the same Mia Roberts that called my cock a medical experiment?” I ask, totally confused.
“One and the same but Matt, you’re funny as fuck, and that text deserved verbal appreciation.” My mind went straight to the gutter, my cock on board with that idea, twitching in excitement at the mere thought of other ways she could use her mouth to offer me thanks. I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying anything.
“So the text was for someone else you call Legs?” she chides.
“No, I was texting you, but didn’t know what to say,” I admit honestly.
“So you texted that?” she asks curiously.
“I’m an idiot sometimes.”
“Oh, we all know that,” she states emphatically, but her tone doesn’t match the statement and is half-hearted at best.
To change the subject to what I was actually needing from her, I push on. “You know my best friend, Jase?”
“Of course. He’s a cool guy.”
What the fuck? She thinks he’s cool but calls me an idiot?
Why does that affect me so much?
I shake my head and continue. “He asked me today if I could get Natalie’s number off you. He wants to ask her out.”
“You’re joking,” she says, sounding surprised. “I would never have thought about those two together but now that I am, I can totally see it.”
“Really?” I ask, dumbfounded. I never would’ve picked that match-up in a million fucking years. Jase goes for good girls, not loose and wild like Natalie Chase. Mia is her own brand of wild, but she’s definitely not easy. In fact, Noah told me that she rarely goes on second dates.
“Yeah, he’s a good guy and she’s a crazy girl; together, they’d totally even each other out.”
I shrug, even though no one can see me. “I suppose. Does that mean you’ll give me her number?”
“To you, no. But give me his number and if Nat’s interested, she’ll get in contact with him.”
“Sounds fair,” I replied, before telling her Jase’s number and listening to her recite it back.
“Okay then, well I better let you go. I just wanted to let you know that the pick-up line was funny, even if it was a little lame.”
“Right. If it was that bad, how ’bout you give it your best shot?”
“My best pick-up line?”
“Yep. Hit me with it,” I goad.
“You sure you can handle it, Matty boy?”
I chuckle at the challenge. “Bring it on, Legs.”
“Still don’t get the legs thing,” she mutters.
“Because every time I see them I imagine them wrapped around my head.”
She chokes down the phone, and then the line goes eerily quiet.
“Mia?”
“I’m here. Just hitting pause on that mental image and saving it for later.”
“Jesus, woman. Warn a guy before you throw out the Viagra lines.”
“What?” she says, with a knowing giggle.
“Those kind of words take a man from floppy to stabby in zero-point-five seconds.”
“What can I say? It’s a special gift I have.” I can tell she’s smiling.
“Goodnight, Mia. I’ll tell Jase to expect a call.”
“You do that. Who knows? Maybe we can make it a group thing,” she adds, like it’s just a normal, everyday activity.
“Like a double date?” I ask on a choked breath.
“I always like going out with friends. If you call it a date, then so be it. But I can promise you one thing, Matty boy.”
“What’s that, Legs?”
“You will be going home alone,” she says in a low, definitive voice.
Then, just before I end the call, I make sure I have the last word. “We’ll see.”
Why on earth did I ever suggest this double date?
We’ve been here for an hour already and most of the time the guys’ attention has been on the ice. Ten minutes ago, I asked Matt about his work and he nodded absentmindedly, paying no attention to what I was saying. It was only when I reached out and touched his arm that he met my eyes—then there was a huge cheer from the crowd and suddenly he jumped to his feet, shouting at the referee because some player slammed some other guy into the wall and started a fight.
Well, that’s what I think happened. Can you tell I’m not sold on ice hockey as a date option?
The night started out okay. Nat came over to my place around lunchtime, and we had a liquid lunch followed by a binge session of watching Housewives of Wherever while eating junk food from the kitchen. There’s something about watching human train-wrecks play out in front of you that always makes you feel better about your own life. It was awesome, and the best way to waste time until the guys turned up at six.
Nat and Jase started eye-fucking each other the instant the door opened but together, Matt and I managed to hustle them outside and into Matt’s truck.
Since then, we’ve barely spoken to each other, outside of the expected niceties. There’s been no conversation.
None.
Nada.
Nothing.
He hasn’t asked about Noah, Zoe, or Nate, or about any other member of my/our family. I came along tonight using the “moral support” excuse when truthfully, I just wanted to see Matt. But the least he could do is talk to me. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on dates? I’m more than a little perturbed and definitely put out. A car ride and more than an hour and a half of sitting in the hard plastic seat next to him, and it’s like Kissgate, the birthday party, and our phone call the other night never happened.
It’s almost like we’re strangers, and I can’t work out why it’s pissing me off so much.
Needing to do something to quell the desire to flash my boobs at him to see if it gets a reaction, I spin around to talk to Nat and come face to face with her digging for gold in Jason’s mouth. She seems to have gotten over any concerns she had earlier today, might have had something to do with the little pep talk I gave her in between reality shows.
And if the position of their hands—and yes, even legs—are anything to go by right now, I can tell they’d probably be carnally acquainted if we weren’t in public.
The second intermission begins, and as I turn away from the free porn show beside me, Matt’s hand slides over my knee. His calloused fingers catch on my jeans as they glide over my leg in a circular motion, sending delicious tingles right up between my legs and all negative thoughts from my head, filling the newly vacated space with my own personal porn reel of possibilities.
I push all dirty thoughts out of my brain when I remember that I’m angry at him—even if I can’t fully comprehend why. Jerking my legs sideways to get away from him—unsuccessfully—I shoot him a glare, earning me a puzzled look.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Look, I know we’re the tag-alongs on this porn marathon of a date, but it’s common courtesy to at least acknowledge the person you’re out with before you grope them.”
“I’m sorry, I kind of zone out when I’m watching a game. Ask Noah; I’ve always been like that,” he says, actually sounding sincere. My anger fades away, and I feel kind of stupid for overreacting.
“Oh . . .”
He mutters something under his breath and shakes his head at me, but his eyes are full of amusement. “What’s this about porn?”
“I’m just feeling a little awkward.”
His head jerks back. “Why?”
His hand doesn’t move from it’s new home on the
inside of my knee but his flexing fingers definitely get my attention Hello? Personal space, anyone?
I tilt my head in the direction of the horny lovebirds to my right. “I have a live sex show playing out beside me, and you’re looking at the hockey puck like you wanna take it home for the night.”
“If it came with the Stanley Cup, I’d be game,” he replies, with a grin.
“The Stanley what now?”
He gasps, his eyes now as wide as saucers. “You’re joking, right?”
“Yeah, I am, but the look on your face was totally worth it.”
He flexes his fingers and a jolt of awareness shoots through me, culminating in a delicious shiver. “You’ll keep,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to my lips.
“Matt . . .” I warn.
“Mm-hmm.” He licks his lips, drawing my attention to his tongue as it trails first along his top lip, then mimics the movement on his lower one. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to be doing that for him right now.
Unless I include Nate’s open-mouthed gooey kiss goodbye I got yesterday afternoon. Since kissing only counts when there is tongue and lots of it, Matt was my last kiss.
And he is a good kisser. He knows what to do and how to do it well. If it was just the physical act of kissing him, I could do it for hours. Days even.
“You’re looking at me like I’m dinner,” I say.
“I am hungry.”
“We could go get something to eat if you want,” I offer in an attempt to assuage him.
“I wasn’t talking about food.” He licks his lips again and his eyes meet mine, the heat in them unmistakable.
“Matt, we shouldn’t . . .”
He lifts his spare hand—the one not resting between my knees—and places his index finger across my lips. Then, ever-so-slowly, he traces the outline of my mouth with the tip of his digit. It takes everything in me to not go with my gut and touch him with my tongue.
My breathing speeds up, and I instinctively clench my thighs together, inadvertently trapping his hand there.
“Fuck, you’re irresistible,” he murmurs. He lowers his head toward mine, and all I can do is close my eyes and wait for impact because any resistance at this time is futile.
“What are you guys doing?” Nat says, her voice cutting through the haze of all things mouth-related.
My eyes snap open and Matt and I just sit there, his head mid-descent and halfway toward Kissgate version two, except this time it wouldn’t be for show. We’re stuck in an awkward ‘What do we do now?’ moment and knowing someone needs to make the first move, I release his hand from its home between my thighs and turn away to face Nat. I decide attack is the best form of defense and go in for the kill.
“Oh, you finally came up for air.”
“You’re so fucking funny,” she scoffs.
“I didn’t know you and Jase were providing in-game entertainment, otherwise I would’ve brought a camera and some popcorn.”
Matt starts laughing behind me and Jase joins him as he rests his chin on Nat’s shoulder and wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her back into his chest. Nat bites her lip and narrows her eyes at me. I can tell she’s trying to decide on her next move.
“You’re just jealous,” she replies.
“Who’s winning?” Jase asks, tilting his head toward the game.
“You’re the one who suggested the hockey game, Jase,” Matt says.
“I can’t help it if I got distracted.”
“Join the club,” Matt mutters behind me. Damn, even his heat at my back is turning me on.
“Only one more period to go,” Jase says, as he looks up at the scoreboard. “And we’re winning too. See, baby, we haven’t missed all of it.” Did he just call Nat—walk of shame hall of famer—his baby?
“Ah . . . I think I need to go to the restroom,” I announce. I stand up and Matt joins me. I look up at him, quirking an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“You’re not going by yourself, so I’ll take you.”
“I am capable of walking up the stairs and finding the bathrooms.”
“I know. But you’re not going by yourself.”
“And why not?” I ask, getting uppity while trying to hide the squishy feeling in my stomach at his protectiveness.
“I’m not gonna cop shit from my brother, your brother, and your sister should something happen to you.”
Okay. Something is definitely wrong with me. Normally, I’d be in someone’s face arguing women’s rights with them at this juncture. So why the hell am I finding this so fucking hot? I must be overdue for a thorough vibrator-testing session. That must be the reason; there is no other explanation. Matt isn’t just affecting me on a physical level like he does every single time I see him, he’s messing with my head and he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Going to the bathroom is my chance to escape and clear my head. I mean, I was about to kiss him—again—and his hand was trapped between my legs and I liked it there.
Actually, I would’ve preferred it much higher and doing a lot more than just resting there, but I’d never admit that, especially right now.
“Legs?” he says, as he puts his hands on my hips and pushes me gently forward toward the aisle.
“We’ll be back,” I shout to Nat and Jase over my shoulder, as Matt grabs my hand and holds tight as we walk up the stairs. I tug my arm away hoping he’ll release me, but to no avail.
“You can let go now.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Matt—” My protest gets stuck in my throat as he jerks me sideways, turning me into a small concrete alcove at the top of the stairs and pressing me back against the wall. He puts his forearm above my head and leans in close, running his nose along mine. “Fuck, you’re impossible to resist, you know that?”
“What?” I whisper, my hands gripping his hips like my life depends on it.
“I can’t stop myself when it comes to you.” As much as I don’t want to be another notch of the Mini WD whore train, I’m aching to catch a ride.
“This is insane,” I breathe, my body sagging against his when his fingers run down my face and around the back of my neck.
“It’s crazy, but that’s what makes it so fucking hot.” He pulls my head to meet his, licking his lips and in turn touching mine. I can’t stop the moan that escapes my mouth, but Matt does—with his mouth and his tongue. He plunders. He digs deep. He pushes his hard cock against my stomach and growls into the kiss when my hands grip his back and my fingers bite into the skin through his tee.
“You go, man!” a guy shouts from beside us and the proverbial cold shower makes an unwelcome appearance.
I move my hands around and push gently on Matt’s shoulders. He groans, and when we inch apart the look on his face is a combination of pent-up frustration and aggravation. Turning his head toward the voice, his eyes widen and his lips curl in recognition.
“Cade! Hey. How are you?”
And just like that, Matt releases me and after a quick readjustment down below, starts talking to Cade, as if he wasn’t just rocking my world during intermission at a hockey game. Cade—friend of Noah and Daniel. Just my fucking luck!
“Is that you, Mia?” Cade asks, looking over Matt’s shoulder. I nod and give him a friendly yet highly embarrassed flick of my hand, but say nothing. I’m so embarrassed—mortified even—and can’t meet Cade’s eyes so focus on a discarded drinking straw on the ground. “I guess this means our date next week is off?” Cade says, his voice unreadable. I snap my head up, my back going ramrod straight at the same time my brain is screaming ‘oh shit.’
Matt’s entire body tenses and I open my mouth to say something but snap it shut again, knowing there’s nothing I could say that would explain what he just saw us doing. Deciding escape is best, I slowly step sideways toward the doorway leading out to the restrooms. As stealth as I try to be, it appears I’d fail at ninja school because one foot away from freedom an arm hooks around my waist, and I’m jerked back into a har
d chest.
Looking up at Matt, I can’t miss his thin lips and tight jaw. He’s pissed but that doesn’t stop him from plastering my body against his and hooking his arm around my shoulders. It’s a clear girlfriend hold, a claiming that I’ve always seen and read about but never experienced first-hand. I push back to get free but he just squeezes me closer, all while he continues to chat with Cade, who I notice does not seem fazed by Matt’s body language. I make a mental note to call him later to explain away whatever the hell this must look like, if for no other reason but to stop news of this unfortunate situation getting back to our family.
“Matt?” I ask.
“Yeah, Legs?”
What is it about him calling me Legs that hits me in all the right places?
“I need to go to the restroom.”
“Just give me a minute and I’ll come with you.”
Normally an offer like that would make me a little melty inside but in the current situation, it makes me panic.
“I’m fine Matt. I just need to go now. I’ll meet you back at our seats.” I push back harder against his hold, and he finally lets me go.
Needing to get far, far away from the Matt Taylor force field I’ve found myself caught in, I turn to Cade, say goodbye, and then walk—okay, almost run—out the door and down the corridor to the first restroom I see.
So double date disaster—check.
Getting caught out by someone we know—check
Person we know happening to be the same guy I’m having dinner with next week—check.
Successfully clearing my head about Matt and how he affects me—go to jail, do not pass go, and do not collect two hundred dollars.
Why did I ever think I could play the player at his own game?
I stand there talking to Cade for a while after she leaves for the restrooms, but I cannot get over the fact that a) She was going to date Cade, and b) She went walking off on her own. I took care of the first problem for her, but the second—she’s gonna hear about it.
When intermission ends, I return to my seat but spend the first ten minutes of game play anxiously checking my watch, then the game clock, as I wait for her to come back. I can’t even concentrate on the action in front of me and miss a goal, all because I’m too busy looking over my shoulder and up the stairs for Mia.